His Most Important Title Yet
by MuseInMe3
Summary: Based on this prompt from GleekMom: Kurt is a model and he loves his job, he really does, but this photoshoot is going really long and Blaine is waiting for him at home on possibly the most important day of their lives. Klaine AU; model!Kurt; Complete.


Kurt never should have opened that text from Blaine.

He'd been modelling for five years now and he always turned his phone off during shoots. It was too easy to let the outside world distract him. His emotions were always written on his face, which is what could make or break a job for him. And yet, here he was on the most important shoot of his career, the one everyone promised would give him the title of Supermodel (something rarely used for male models) and he was completely distracted by Blaine's two word text.

_Debra called._

"Kurt, we're starting to lose daylight. Let's get this last shot in the next 5 frames. Okay?" Marcel, the photographer, smiled encouragingly at Kurt.

"Yes, of course," Kurt replied. He shook his head, as if he could simply erase the image of those two words from his brain like an old school etch-a-sketch. It was a catch-22 really, the more he thought about what Debra might have said, the more distracted he became, the longer the shoot would take, and thus, the more he would fixate on needing to know the outcome of that phone call.

"Look to the left of the camera, Kurt." FLASH.

As he leaned downward to pull up his sock, he caught sight of the time on his watch. The shoot was already running two hours later than he'd anticipated. He knew Blaine understood. Hell, Blaine more than just understood. He encouraged, supported and adapted. Multiple dinner reservations over the last few years had been postponed, rescheduled or replaced with take-out from the late night Thai restaurant around the corner.

"To the right, Kurt." FLASH.

And knowing that, knowing that Blaine was infinitely patient about Kurt's unpredictable hours made all the difference. Kurt wouldn't have this skyrocketing modelling career if he didn't have Blaine's support. In fact, he wouldn't have a modelling career at all if it hadn't been for Blaine. He'd been the one to give Kurt the push he needed when there seemed to be no roles for him after he graduated from NYADA. Kurt had been lost and regretting his decision to give up on fashion for performing. The next day Blaine came home with a "Models Wanted" flyer from a boutique that Kurt adored. Blaine had walked Kurt to the modelling audition two days later, a brand new portfolio containing practically still wet headshots, held tightly in his grasp. He'd kissed him on the lips and sent him inside. Two days later, Kurt received the phone call that started his modeling career, and when they went out to dinner that night, he made sure he also got the man of his dreams when he proposed to Blaine at their favourite restaurant.

"A little more to the right and downward, Kurt." FLASH.

That was five years ago. They'd been husbands for three of those glorious years. Both finding their way in their careers, surviving all the highest highs and lowest lows anyone sent their way because they were anchored with each other. Nothing could sink either of them, when the other was waiting to hug, kiss, caress and adore them every single day. Of course not every day was perfect, but they'd learned a long time ago that their relationship was worth fighting for. Even if the fighting meant yelling at each other, because it also meant the sweetest make-ups afterward, and the knowledge that they both went to sleep every night still choosing the other.

"Same spot again, Kurt." FLASH.

So while their careers started to take off, they both found that the stability at home was more important. And right now, he wanted to be there more than anywhere else in the world. This one phone call was going to have a bigger impact on their lives than any previous one. And there had been some pretty major phone calls in their lives. The day Kurt's manager had called to say that he booked the cover of Vogue magazine. The day Burt called to say his cancer was in remission. The day Blaine's manager had called to say he landed a role on Broadway. The day the adoption agency called to say their application had been approved. The day Debra was assigned as their adoption case worker...

"Last one. Right at the camera, Kurt." FLASH. "And that's a wrap!"

Kurt hailed a taxi and was home ten minutes later. He ran up the stairs and flew through their front door and right into Blaine's waiting embrace. Kurt hadn't even paused to see the look on Blaine's face, he had no idea right now what his husband was thinking. They hugged for a moment longer and then Kurt's anxiety got the better of him.

He pulled back and held Blaine at arms length. "You have to tell me. I got your text four hours ago. I can't wait another minute," Kurt begged.

"Oh Babe, I'm sorry. I thought you'd have your phone off. I thought you'd get my text on your way home," Blaine apologized as he led Kurt to their dining room.

Kurt took in the candlelit room with the table set for two. As his eyes scanned the place settings, he noticed the bottle of champagne sitting in their silver ice bucket. His heart stopped as his grip on Blaine's hand tightened. Blaine squeezed back reassuringly.

"Kurt," Blaine said softly as he turned his husband to face him, "Debra called. Stacey loved us. She's chosen us. In three months, when her twins are born, they're going to be ours to adopt!"

The tears flowed faster than the champagne after Blaine finished speaking. The rest of the night was a blur of laughter and love. Of phone calls made and texts sent. Of debating names and nursery colours. Of sweet kisses and promises for tomorrow.

And just as they were drifting off to sleep, wrapped tightly around each other, Blaine apologized for not asking about Kurt's photoshoot. Kurt told him it didn't matter. The rest of the world could call him a Supermodel, and Blaine a Broadway star, but the only title he cared about was that in a few short months, they were both going to be Fathers.


End file.
